One shot for Love, Two for Regret, Three for Wrath
by Kornblume Cavalier
Summary: Pruk/EngPru AU Based on AkunoP's three songs: End of a Moonlit Night, The Last Revolver and The Muzzle of Nemesis. I'm terrible at summaries but its basically starts at Arthur's revenge for a mission that cost him the one treasure of his life. Someone who had taught and given him back the emotions he lost to overflowing wrath. (check bio for more)


**I do not own Hetalia or the characters. Neither do I own AkunoP's works.**

**Kapitel 1: Revenge**

"_**Sinful man, Repent"**_

With narrowed emerald eyes that burned like twin suns, Arthur could feel the corners of his lips being pulled into an ugly snarl that spoke of nothing but pure anger and wrath. The professional hit man stood in an ornate room; decorated with countless artifacts that would have been impossible to acquire even with all the gold in the national coffers emptied inside out. Several years ago, the Brit would not have dreamt of ever crossing the line this far; barging into the house of his employer—setting the house on fire and hell-bent on revenge.

Teeth gritted, the masked sandy blonde stood before a taller and older man; the latter wore the long, black robes of a judge, and carried himself as if speaking to a defendant or one of the judicial staff. Seething emerald irises met cold and aloof amber-brown hues; he looked at the man who had been his boss, and however corrupted; a father figure for thirteen years—and all Arthur could think of was what he had lost.

'Trash like you should not be allowed to live.' Disgust roiled in the assassin's gut as he gazed at the tanned face he knew all too well. Akin to a stain that simply refused to be removed no matter how strong the bleach; he felt tainted just by staring at the other's face—like murky black ink tipped into clear water. 'I wonder how was it that I could stand being with such filth; maybe what people say is true, spend too long a time with stench and it becomes natural.' The Brit mused to himself.

He would have executed his plan earlier than this day—immediately after his stint at the hospital—had Allistair not made him go though a round of crash course training like some greenhorn at his area of specialization. However, Arthur realized that now was a much better time to act on his plot for vengeance; the citizens who were outraged at the verdict of an unscrupulous serial murderer being declared innocent in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary: what better opportunity to justify his action than to do it in the name of justice?

Besides, his brother would not have let him waltz out of the hospital, the redhead was the one who had found him slumped in a corner and bleeding from a clean headshot. Another reason for his mask, to cover up the two keloid scars he sustained at the sides of his head and of course to primarily disguise his features.

The revolver that the sandy blonde held was in a firm, unwavering grip despite the increasing heat of his surroundings. There was no light of recognition or remorse in those smouldering orbs—nothing but a blank, mindless rage. Aimed at point blank, Arthur hissed at how his target seemed unrepentant in the face of impending punishment.

'I wonder what would you have made of this, Gilbert?'

Except that Gilbert was dead; killed a year ago, and maybe just as well. He would not have wanted to see how this world he had believed in had become now. 'Or me, for that matter. But you would understand why I turned into this, you always had an intuition surpassing others.'

Pulling the hammer back with his thumb, Arthur's index finger did not quiver or shake, as it remained poised to pull the trigger—unlike the past year where he struggled to even aim at his target.

'For this man I had given up the one treasure of my life. Now its time for him to be judged like how he judged others.' The hired killer smirked to himself before greeting the corrupt judge with a voice that would have burned metal like how strong acid does.

"Hello Master Vargas, take your pick—I've set your house on fire—so be shot at point blank or burn in this hellfire."

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**15 years ago:**

Bow and arrow in hand, Arthur wandered about the forest happily—not minding that an arc of sweat darkened the cowl of his cloak, or that his shirt clung to his skin: he had come straight from target practice with his older sibling, Allistair, without taking time to shower. Plus, the brisk pace—almost a jog—he had maintained through the labyrinth of trees had offered him no chance to cool off. The seven year old had wanted to visit his favourite spots in the wide woodland that he lived in; a glade he had found in one of his small excursions, and a wide lake with clear water that reflected the beautiful azure sky.

'I wonder if Minty and the others are already there and waiting for me.' The boy wondered quietly to himself as he leapt over the thick, winding roots in his path. Arthur had always enjoyed his time with his faerie friends after a long while of training; as much as he was close to his other siblings: they were all older than he was and preferred to indulge in their own hobbies or were too busy to bother him. Allistair was often out hunting during his spare time and would rarely be home to talk to the wee lad. Patrick was out working and was almost never seen throughout the year save for once or twice to visit, and Dylan spent most of his time with the sheep, opting for their company more than human interaction.

It was not that bad really, at least Arthur did not have to worry about being picked on or teased by his siblings. The downside was that the child could not understand them at times and he often wondered if he had done anything to upset his elder siblings, hence their 'silent treatment' to him. "I wish they would talk to me more…" he sighed, speaking out his thoughts wistfully.

Looking down, Arthur's emerald irises widened when he spotted drips of blood on the grass. His first thought was an injured animal; probably rather badly hurt and scared, judging by the small and congealing puddles. 'Maybe something that I can kill and show Alba that I am not too young to help him with hunting!' The sandy blonde thought excitedly to himself, deciding to follow the trail of blood. Unknowingly, as he tracked down the source of the trail, the boy was in fact headed to the lake he had intended to visit.

And there it was; A mess of white fur, streaked with blood and—

The seven year old lowered his bow when he heard _it_ sniffling; almost like how he did when he was upset and trying to keep away the tears that leaked from his eyes. Arthur crept up quietly, just like a hunter stalking his prey; the child took extra care to startle whatever the strange creature was. Much closer now, the sandy blonde could see that it was a child; with pale skin that was badly bruised, a few knotted strands of silvery white hair were glued to his face by dry and crusted crimson glue due to an ugly gash at the side of his head.

"Who are you?" The sandy blonde asked, stepping out of his hiding place so that the other could see him as well. Releasing a startled yelp, the silver haired boy looked up at him with terror—crimson red met green, the former wide and full of fear. Arthur kept his bow held his hands up, a sign that he meant no harm. He walked slowly and carefully towards the injured boy, the latter had already lost enough blood and from what the Brit could see, there were many more wounds at his arms and legs too. "My name is Arthur…What's yours?" Voice gentle, the Brit smiled friendlily.

"Gilbert…My name is Gilbert. Is there anyone else with you?" Eyes darting from side to side as if trying to scan the area for any intruders, the albino's voice was shrill, close to sounding hysterical.

"No, I am alone. What happened to you?" Kneeling down, Arthur felt worry rise up in him when he noticed that Gilbert was much more seriously hurt than he had first thought; clothing rumpled, tattered, the fabric was wet with a spreading splotch of blood. 'I can't possibly treat his wounds. I need to let mother take care of it.' The child bit down on his lower lip, unsure of how to tell the other.

Gilbert opened his mouth to answer but before he could utter a peep, his red eyes rolled back and eyelids slid to a close. For a split second, Arthur believed him to be dead, but the Brit calmed once his eyes saw the slow fall and rise of the albino's chest. Letting out a relieved sigh, the sandy blonde half carried and dragged his newfound friend of sorts back home.

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**A/N. So hallo and yes this is a new fanfic! It will be angst filled but also with a good touch of fluff and sweetness. The sole pairing here is PrUK/EngPru. **

**This story is an au and set in a semi-gothic fantasy world where magic exists. The plot as mentioned in the summary and my bio is loosely based on AkunoP's three songs: End of a moonlit night, The last revolver and The muzzle of nemesis.**

**Do review and I hope you enjoyed this so far! PM's are most welcome!**


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